


A Dead Bird on the Street

by MyrddinDerwydd



Series: 30 Days of Dragon Age [7]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Birds, Death, Gen, Nobility, Pranks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-17 01:32:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14822678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyrddinDerwydd/pseuds/MyrddinDerwydd
Summary: Sera deals with an everyday death in Val Royeaux. Intended to be pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition.Writing Masterpost, organized by main character.





	A Dead Bird on the Street

“Shit!” Sera flailed, dodging a tiny bird as it flew full-tilt into the window of a nearby shop. 

An awkward tuft of saffron plumage tumbled to the street, landing with the silence of death. 

“Whad’ya go and do that for, stupid bird.” She crouched down and poked it with a dirty finger. “You gotta have street smarts to live in the big city, like me.” The streets here were clean, too clean, like the shop window.

“Rich tits polish their windows ‘til they shine, and you see  _ riiiight  _ clear through, don’t they.” 

Ragged blonde hair shook from side to side as she turned her glare from the bird to the window. Her own motley reflection glared back, a skinny urchin in red and yellow plaid. It pulled a face, tongue out and eyes crossed, and she could see too well how sharp she matched it. 

“Noble prigs don’t care about you, little sparrow,” she sulked, muttering as she scooped up the tiny, body. “They let you die, no - they killed you right straight up. Won’t even notice.” 

The eighth bell rang as two masked women passed her on the street without a glance, ignoring the scruffy teenager. It was early enough that they were likely on their way to a breakfast tea, and Sera glared at the retreating piles of satin and shine. Each dress was worth more than she’d steal in a month - maybe more.

“Should get ‘em back.” 

She smoothed the bird’s feathers, no chance at life with a tiny head lolling on its broken neck, then returned her angry eyes to the reflected bushes from across the street. A quick glance told her that she was alone for the moment, and she darted to the nearest pot and grabbed a handful of dirt. 

_ Hocck - spptooo!  _

Spittle hit the window in a glob. Brown, slobbery dirt smeared the window, and she repeated the cycle until the glass looked like a mabari had its way with it.

“Still ten times cleaner than the couple’a tiny windows the alienage had,” Sera muttered spitefully. She nodded sharply at the finished scene, then scurried away. This street wouldn’t have easy targets ‘til hours later.

The little bird wasn’t in the street anymore… it was strung across the smudged window with twine, wings outstretched in macabre mimicry of its final flight.


End file.
